


Dear John

by teamrocket



Series: Notes from the Battlefield [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: I CHOSE not to use any for a reason., M/M, Pay attention to the archive warning bit, Takes place some time after Sherlock comes back from the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamrocket/pseuds/teamrocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is drafted into the army and leaves for war. Sherlock corresponds with him through a series of letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear John

**Author's Note:**

> I took some creative liberties with the details about the British Army.

_Dear John,_

_I'm sure that if you had just allowed Mycroft and I, we could have fabricated an adequate excuse for you to be exempted from the draft. I understand how you feel compelled to serve again in the army now that we are under attack, but there are other, safer ways to support your country than to enlist; you could collect donations and supplies, for example. You could have claimed that you still had PTSD; there is plenty of evidence to enforce that allegation._

_I miss you. I miss you already, even though you are sitting beside me in the cab as I am accompanying you to the airport. You don't have to go; I could always fake seizing you as a hostage again, and we could flee the country...or I can kidnap you for real._

_**Sherlock, I thought we talked this over. There is nothing you can do to stop me. It's my duty as a soldier to protect my country. And we both know that I'll easily overpower you.** _

_I wish you'd stop bringing that up. It's dangerous, though. You could get shot again, and this time, it could be more than just a shoulder wound. John, please._

_**Sherlock, there is no** _ **reasonable** _**possibility that I'd be able to get out of this, even if I wanted to. Now, can we stop communicating like we're in primary school and talk?** _

__ _You're the one that took over my letter. Go away. I just wish that I could come with you to protect you._

_**But we both know that you can't because of your criminal record and your drug history. And besides, it's too late now.** _

__ _John, this was supposed to be something you could look fondly upon in the barracks during your free time. At any rate, do try to keep safe._

_-Sherlock_

*

_Dear John,_

_It has come to my attention that during the short time that I had had you, I had never truly told you precisely how important you are to me. I had mentioned when we were in Dartmoor that you were my only friend, but that's untrue; you mean more than that to me. Although I have a highly proficient vocabulary, I have yet to discover a word that adequately conveys our relationship. Hopefully, knowing the extent of my fondness of you will give you an additional incentive to return. I shall keep looking for a word to use._

_Please return safely. The statistics of soldiers that never return are staggering; the fear I felt in the moors pale in comparison to how terrified I am now. I have sent your favorite jam along as a care package, along with Skully, for when you need someone to interact with. Fear not, for I have procured a duplicate; I felt that giving you Skully would be a necessary symbolic gesture._

_I am speaking with Mycroft on a daily basis on your status. He has men of all ranks watching you and sworn to keep you safe. Don't worry about me; I am managing the domestics sufficiently. If Mrs. Hudson ever writes, please disregard her comments. After all, I've made a pact with myself to buy milk on a monthly basis. Oh, by the way, since we are currently on the topic, is it acceptable to use half a pack of teabags instead of a full pack? I made a cup last night for Mrs. Hudson, and she nearly choked. Perhaps she takes hers weaker and was unaccustomed to a full pack of teabags._

_Anyway, I miss you. Anderson is a pain as usual, and even a triple homicide isn't as fun without you; I'd actually prefer just a double homicide with you by my side._

_Yours, Sherlock_

*

_Dear John,_

_Molly is acting absolutely ridiculous. I think she's trying to flirt with me, although perhaps my persuasions are a bit too effective. Out of courtesy, I am simply ignoring her and giving the appearance that her attempts are all flying above my head. It is wearing thin, however, and I soon may revert to my usual self. Occasionally, when I'm on the verge of snapping some sense into her, I hear your voice reprimanding me, and I restrain myself._

_Referring back to the teabags, that is ridiculous! Why would they sell them in packs like that if they weren't meant to be used for one cup?! That's simply preposterous! After I received your reply, however, I tried making Mycroft a cup when he paid me a visit, but he saw through it. Perhaps it does look a bit more murky than the ones you made._

_Speaking of Mycroft, I tried persuading him to give the order to let you return home, but he insists that he will not unless you agree. Please? I'll buy milk, and I even promise to not experiment on your jumpers anymore unless it's absolutely vital._

_Stay safe. I stand by what I said before; I am lost without my blogger. Keep that in mind, my dear army doctor, and avoid being shot again. I miss you._

_-Sherlock_

_*_

_Dear John,_

_It has been precisely a month since you've been gone. I have been texting Mycroft everyday on updates, and he said that he almost wished that we still weren't on speaking terms. That bastard. He's cheating on his diet again; I keep on trying to tell Lestrade but he just seems flustered whenever I do. The whole Scotland Yard knows that he's bedding my brother; you'd expect for them to officially formalize it, as anyone with half a brain – which eliminates Anderson – can deduce that he had been...involved, shall we say, with Mycroft since he discovered, with my assistance at that tedious Christmas party, that his wife was cheating on him. I am torn between an uncontrollable desire to retch whenever I see him and sheer glee in hopes that he'll present me with an actually challenging case to distract me from my never-ending anxiety over you._

_Mrs. Hudson has taken it upon myself to formally act as my housekeeper. She requests I pass onto you on her behalf that you had isolated me from “important” household duties and rendered me unavailable to care for myself. Personally, I think that I was managing just fine by myself, and you should take her message with a grain of salt. If she hadn't accidentally stumbled upon the toes in the kitchen sink, perhaps she wouldn't be so unreasonably appalled._

_I have auctioned off that absurd deerstalker and donated the proceeds to benefit the army. Molly placed several bids on it, but she was outbid by one of my delusional fans in Cardiff. Honestly, don't they have better things to do with their silly little lives? I am considering taking up acting for larger, more frequent donations, and I even went as far as to hire an agent, but in the end, I realized that I simply could not handle the commitment. I even turned down a rather illustrious offer from a man named Moffat for the role of “The Master” in Doctor Who. Perhaps I should just start charging Lestrade instead. I regret to inform you that I splurged on a rather enticing bow for my violin the other day; however, I had a good reason to, as it was a Tourte. I shall not be able to tip as generously as I typically do to the homeless network._

_Speaking of which, I had a rather exciting case involving a serial killer who was masquerading as an ice cream man. Your blog readership would've enjoyed it._

_Regarding your last letter, are you sure that Molly would be offended if I told her that she was trying too hard to woo me? It's like she suddenly thinks that she has a chance now that you're away. Also, your sister visited. No idea why. From the state of her hair and the design of her necklace, however, it's evident that she has her eye on a girl from Bradford who works in a fish and chip shop. And Mycroft is a fat git, so you should completely disregard his analysis on my eating habits; he eats enough to feed all of London, so he's horribly biased._

_I miss you dearly._

_As always, Sherlock_

_*_

_Dear John,_

_I thought I had made myself clear on my feelings for you? Did I not say that they were stronger than that of an average friend? Or at least I imagine that they are. You shouldn't sound so surprised._

_I have a theory that Molly is only attracted to men who are gay. After all, Moriarty did turn out to have been shagging his gunman. No matter how hard you try, a disguise is always a self-portrait. That's what The Woman said to me once. Remember her?_

_No, I am perfectly capable of handling myself; I keep telling you that Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft both are exaggerating. Although, if you felt that you were needed, would you return?_

_I don't see why everyone's so fond of that picture with the deerstalker. I mean, it's an ear hat! Even you enjoy it! A deerstalker is completely inapplicable for hunting deer. Do you know if the donations that I give directly contribute you or not? I shall ask Mycroft to see to it. That fat oaf might as well make himself useful instead of just coming over to our flat, turning his nose up at everything and criticizing me while eating all of our food._

_Of course I shouldn't have expected you to know what a Tourte is. Most people don't, but I consider you slightly brighter than the average dolt. Of course, the average imbecile has something to be proud of, too; at least they're not Anderson. Anderson's stupidity aside, Francois Tourte is the Stradivari of bows. Surely you know what that means?_

_I'd imagine that were you here, where you belong, you'd call it something silly like “The Pin-striped Shirt”. No, nevermind, you'd never come up with something as stupid as that. You're more creative than I; I'll give you that. I checked your blog, by the way. The counter is still stuck at 1895. When you come back, I suggest you get it fixed._

_I don't know what Harry's new girlfriend's name is. Yes, they made it official; you can tell by how her shirts are ironed. No, she doesn't work in a fish and chip shop in Bradford. She's from Bradford but she lives in London now. John, use your brain!_

_As always, miss you. More and more each day. Stay safe._

_Love, Sherlock_

_*_

_Dear John,_

_It's been three weeks since you've written; did my declaration come as a bit of a shock to you? It should hardly seem shocking; everyone else has worked it out, just you. I hope it didn't make you too uncomfortable. We can talk about this when you get home. I miss you terribly._

_Yours, Sherlock_

_*_

_Dear John,_

_Yes, we will most certainly talk about it when you return. If you come home now, however, we can talk about it immediately. The offer still stands, you know. I can persuade Mycroft to pull a few strings any time; just say the word._

_When are you due home? I miss you. It's so dull without you. Even the most creative serial killers cannot relight the spark within me that has been extinguished by your absence. I cannot help but wonder if you reciprocate even the smallest bit of what I feel for you?_

_Of course these things matter! The violin is the most beautiful instrument in existence. It's a wondrous creature, capable of producing both the most emotionally-stirring notes and the screechiest squeaks, which, as you know, I use to drive Mycroft out._

_I conducted an experiment on the properties of fabric softener. Mrs. Hudson was not pleased at my findings and yelled at me. Then she did the most perplexing thing and burst into tears, hugging me. I think she's feeling the stress of your absence, too, although not as much as I, of course. I was feeling particularly lonesome one day and sampled a bit of that jam you enjoy so much. It was too sickeningly sweet; I sent over the mostly-full jar for you. I don't see how you enjoy it at all. You make me wonder, John Watson._

_You've changed me, you know. I've never felt lonely before you showed me how it feels to have someone. I've always been alone, and it had been all I'd known until you. I don't have one happy memory that's not with you. Thank you._

_Miss you, as ever._

_-Sherlock_

_*_

_Dear John,_

_I would've thought that Mycroft spent too much time being fat to tattle on me, but apparently not. Don't worry about it; cocaine stimulates my brain. It keeps it from rotting like everyone else's. I need to preserve my brain while it's not being used, although there's never a time when it's as vapid and blank as Anderson's. Lestrade's only been offering me small, dull cases. He doesn't need me for these, as they're simple enough, but Mycroft's putting him to this to try and occupy me. If he really wants me occupied, he'd forcefully withdraw you from the army, whether you like it or not. If you came back, you could regulate my recreational drug usage. Of course, if you came back, I wouldn't need any. I think Mycroft is slowly being convinced bit by bit that having you around is the best thing for me, and you know how influenced he is by Mummy, who's a firm believer that family comes first. Power has impaired his judgment, but he'll see sense soon enough. Start packing your bags, John._

_I suppose that it is a confusing subject for you, as you have always considered yourself a straight man. Although, what you said, it does make me...happy. You do. You're not just saying that, are you? Never mind. Don't worry about it; just worry about keeping yourself all in one piece when you get home._

_If my misery won't convince you to return, will Mrs. Hudson's? We all miss you; this war isn't worth endangering your life for. Not you, John Watson. Not you._

_Anderson's wife finally caught him and Donovan. About time, that woman. She must be daft; it was so obvious that he was having an affair. Of course, she did marry him, so I suppose it serves her right. I can't imagine why anyone would marry someone like that._

_I was in a cab the other day, and the cabbie was listening to a program on the radio. Something about airplanes. Is this what society's reduced to? I cannot stand the drivel that the media obsesses over. The telly's just as rubbish too, especially the “crime-dramas”. It's quite obvious who's responsible by the first advert break._

_It's so boring without you; look what you've reduced me to. I played Cluedo by myself the other day; it was still wrong._

_Yours, Sherlock_

_*_

_Dear John,_

_It's been over three months since you've left me. Mycroft still isn't budging. Stupid fat git. I don't see why you're insisting on staying. If it's the danger, I can provide plenty for you._

_I wrote to the makers of Cluedo with my complaints. They only sent me the standard apology letter and a coupon for any of the company's products. Like I'd purchase anything of theirs again! It's getting chilly; bundle up, my dear army doctor. Take care of yourself for me. One of your thicker jumpers would do you well._

_For your benefit, and because Mycroft threatened to force Lestrade not to give me any cases at all if I didn't comply, I stepped off the cocaine. I'm going through five nicotine patches at a time, however. By the time you return, whenever that may be, I'll probably have picked up smoking again. Please come back to me soon. Even Molly is sick of me._

_Speaking of Molly, she's got herself engaged to some bloke. I happened to run into them at the morgue, and I was right about her, only even her fiance doesn't know yet, which would've made it tactless to out him. You wouldn't even have picked up on it, but I am never wrong about this sort of thing._

_Since we're on the topic of you, my dear army doctor, you mean that to me, plus more. I owe you more than you could imagine. Come home soon. We have a lot to catch up on. I miss you unbearably; you must be getting tired of hearing me say that._

_I press your picture to my heart every night as I stare at the ceiling in your bed, just lying there, thinking, worrying, about you. I crave the soft touch of your hand, the curious inquisition in your warm eyes, seeing your tousled hair when you first wake up in the morning. I hope your fellow soldiers appreciate what I'm missing._

_I miss you like no other. Be careful._

_-Sherlock_

_*_

_Dear John,_

_Dammit, John, I told you not to go into combat again. I begged you repeatedly to return, to be safe, and what do you do?! You get bloody shot! John Watson, you better not dare die on me! You better not have the audacity to die on me!_

_I think I know how you felt, now, when I was standing on the edge of St. Bart's. It wasn't my fault, though; it couldn't be helped. It was for you, to keep you alive. I'm sorry for what I put you through, for the grief you felt, but this isn't the same. If you dare die, you won't be faking. You won't be coming back. If you dare die on me, then I'll kill you. John, don't do this to me. I love you. I've waited this long for you to come back, and I've realized that life isn't worth living if there's no you. There's nothing left if you're gone. Don't die, John. Please don't die. For me._

_If I mean anything to you, then you better stay alive. I just want you home, breathing, in any sort of condition. As long as you're alive. I love you, and I have for a long time, but I was afraid that if I told you, you'd cast me aside and reject me. Now, you may never know. Fuck, John, you're a fighter. You're my army doctor. Keep fighting, John. Please._

_Don't die._

_I love you more than you can comprehend._

_-SH_

_*_

_Dear Sherlock Holmes:_

_We deeply regret to inform you that Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers was killed in action with a bullet wound to the chest, which occurred on the 9 th of January '15, and I am to express the sympathy and regret of the Army Council at your loss._

_ Any application you may wish to make regarding the late soldier's effects should be addressed to “The Secretary, War Office, Whitehall, London,  _ _ SW. _

_ Your servant, Captain J. Harkness _


End file.
